


Dancing Around You

by onereader



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Future, College Student Stiles, Drunk Jackson, Drunkenness, Future Fic, Living Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW Art, Pining, Werewolf Jackson, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/pseuds/onereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite prolonged exposure, Stiles still hasn't quite seen the peak of Jackson's ability to drive him up the wall. Living (and drinking) together opens up a whole new world of frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Little Help For My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in an ongoing series of fics and ficlets that have been inspired by pictures from tumblr where you can find me at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com)!

                                                  

 

“Stiles!”

From his spot on the sofa in the living room Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored the increasingly annoyed voice coming from one of the bedrooms, taking a swig from his beer instead of moving. He should have known that sharing an apartment with Jackson would be a bad idea. But after he returned from London in order to make his peace with the pack and his parents Jackson had admittedly mellowed. He and Stiles were going to the same college and it had actually been his suggestion - Stiles had immediately shot it down but after a conversation with Scott, which included a fair amount of emotional guilt, tripping Stiles had given in and accepted the idea. Truthfully, Jackson _wasn’t_ as terrible a roommate as Stiles had imagined. He didn’t leave his towel on the bathroom floor, he was amenable to a rota for chores and he was actually working really hard for college. But. But - _he was still Jackson._ He seemed to live to rile Stiles up and living with him, seeing him swanning around the apartment in low riding sweatpants and worn, threadbare t-shirts might not have been a deliberate way to drive Stiles slowly insane. But it was effective.

_“Stiles!”_

Tonight they had actually had a great evening; they had met after their last exam for the semester and gone out for a couple of drinks with mutual friends. They were due to drive back to Beacon Hills in two days and had the luxury of nowhere to go tomorrow. So once they got back to the apartment Jackson had cracked open the good stuff - the wolfsbane laced booze that Lydia and Boyd had concocted and regularly sent as care packages to their pack mates. A couple of movies and a pizza later and Jackson was drunk, and had wandered off to bed about half an hour earlier.

And now he was calling for Stiles to come and ‘help him’ with something in his bedroom. For the sake of self-preservation Stiles had been ignoring him for the last…three minutes according to the clock on his mobile. Frankly he’s stunned Jackson hasn’t stomped out into their shared living space and made his demands face to face. But he just can’t go into Jackson’s room; he’s self aware enough that it would be crossing a line in his head that he needs to maintain. Jackson might already be aware of Stiles…attraction towards him, but he doesn’t need his room filling with the scent of Stiles’ arousal. 

“Stiles…please I need your help with this!”

It was the please that did it, Jackson might have mellowed but he was still an asshole the majority of the time (not that Stiles could cast aspersions). He rarely said please, and if he did it was heavily laced with sarcasm or directed towards someone he thought he should impress. Stiles was not one of those people so he rarely heard it. He sighed heavily, Jackson was drunk and Stiles wasn’t - he could be sick or something so it was the responsible thing to go and check on him to be sure he didn’t die or anything - werewolf or not. 

Stiles put his beer back onto the coffee table and hauled himself out of the sofa and headed towards Jackson’s door, which stood ajar. He knocked gently before pushing it open, not stepping over the threshold but looking into the room to see if Jackson was alright. When his eyes fell upon the bed Stiles sucked in a breath. Shit. The sidelight was on and showed clearly that Jackson had apparently flopped straight down face first onto his bed. His pants were hanging off of one foot, draped across the bottom of the bed, and his top was at Stiles’ feet, obviously stripped off as soon as he had got in the room. Jackson was currently using one hand hooked into his underwear and attempting to pull them off without moving the rest of his body. Stiles felt the blush blossom across his cheeks and down his neck, he’d seen Jackson naked before - everyone had - but not in this intimate environment.

“Stiles please, I’m too hot I need you to help me - I’m too _hot!_ Goddammnit why the fuck are you ignoring me now - usually I couldn’t make you shut up if I wanted to…just-fuckin-”

He was wriggling now, his back muscles shifting and his ass jiggling as he tried, and failed, to get himself fully undressed. Stiles just stared, words deserting him for once in his life, and fought not to go and ‘help’ Jackson just how he wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. So Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Jackson return home to Beacon Hills for the break, and it's Stiles' turn to get tipsy and show his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the instalments of my tumblr series Dancing Around You, inspired by pics and currently following on from each other chronologically. Come and see them in their home at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com) :)

                                                             

 

Stiles had managed to settle Jackson down that tipsy night of post-exam-pre-going-back-home excitement. The underwear had stayed on in the end, with Stiles opening the window in Jackson’s bedroom to let in the cool night air and turning to sidelight off so Jackson could rest his sensitive eyes. He’d had them screwed up shut when Stiles had finally braved coming into his room and fumbled his way through making Jackson comfortable without taking advantage of him in his inebriated state. While it did take wolfsbane enhanced liquor to get a werewolf drunk, once it was brought into the picture Jackson was a total lightweight. Out of the whole pack he got the drunkest, the quickest, on the least amount of booze. It entertained Stiles no end that the cocky little shit lost the plot so quickly as soon as a couple of beers and a shot or two were in his system. But while Stiles was happy to make fun of him (and maybe get video evidence) of Jackson’s drunken escapades, he would never take advantage of him - no matter how tempting a picture Jackson had made spread out and wriggling on his huge queen size bed.

 Instead, Stiles had slipped out of the room, finished off his beer while watching the tail end of the movie they had had playing, and then went to bed himself where he lay and contemplated why on Earth his stupid brain insisted on falling for the biggest and most unattainable asshole he knew. One with super senses and an out of control ego, and a predilection for teasing Stiles since they were in kindergarten together. He would say that they have come to the point of being friends now, not like he and Scott are - Scott’s a puppy and Jackson will never be that kind of person. He’s more like Stiles in a lot of ways, he’s snarky and rude and he really doesn’t have time for pretending he likes you unless you can get him somewhere. But living with him for the past 6 months, and knowing him as a pack mate - having seen him grow and develop as a person. Well. Stiles now knows that despite his bravado Jackson has a deep and abiding fear that he isn’t good enough, that he likes guacamole to a ridiculous fight-inducing extent, and that despite his protests he loves his pack like family. He also happens to be hot like burning. Stiles isn’t a saint, okay?

They lazed about for most of the Friday before travelling back to Beacon Hills on the Saturday, driving for hours with their competing music playlists and squabbling over snacks. They got back without incident and Jackson dropped Stiles off at his Dad’s before heading to his own parent’s house. Stiles had reluctantly left the jeep at home before heading to college, Jackson’s parents had gotten him an SUV and it was newer and safer and more reliable than Rosco so that was the chosen vehicle - they didn’t use it much on campus, it was mostly for travelling between college and home. After catching up with his Dad Stiles headed over to Derek’s loft, now renovated, for the pack gathering celebrating everyone being home. It was raucous and fun and everyone was full of laughter and elation at all being in the same place at the same time, the pack bonds that had taken so long to form and nourish singing at the closeness of the group. Derek had given each of his betas their own space in the block, somewhere they could have as their own under their Alpha’s protection - but not have to stay with him. Stiles had a couple of beers too many and Jackson ended up half carrying him to his own place on the floor beneath Derek’s, with Stiles leaning against him in the lift and giggling to himself about some running joke with Scott about Derek and strawberries. He knew it annoyed Jackson that he didn’t know what the joke was about so he continued to chuckle to himself just to annoy the smug little shit who was decidedly sober tonight.

“Why are you so sober? So-sober - hah - sounds like I’m stuttering dude! Hmm I’m kinda tired can I crash? I don’t think Dad would appreciate my triumphant return as much in this state y’know?”

Jackson sighed heavily. 

“Of course you can, idiot, why else would I be carrying your heavy ass down here? Get into bed and _don’t_ drool on those pillows they’re worth more than your car.”

Stiles stumbled into the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, toeing his shoes off after a couple of attempts and feeling vaguely guilty that he wasn’t taking the couch. But what do they say about gift horses and mouths? He fell sideways onto the bed and pressed his face into the pillow. Damn. They really were comfortable; the cotton crisp and cool against his overheated cheek, Jackson probably did pay stupid money for them, the privileged ass. Still, Stiles wasn’t above enjoying them and he rubbed his face against the pillow happily, inhaling the dull but still present scent of Jackson’s body wash and cologne that had settled into the pillow itself. That was how Jackson found him, smiling like a dope and smooshing his face into the bedding while feeling a little like the room was spinning. Stiles opened his eyes when he heard the sound of a glass being set down on the bedside table, and the familiar murmur of Jackson muttering about Stiles being a pain in his ass. He was about to giggle and point out the innuendo when he was brought short by the feeling of Jackson undoing the button on his jeans and tugging them down.

“Don’t worry princess, your virtue is safe - you’ll ruin the bedding if you sleep in these jeans so they’ve got to go. And seeing as you’re apparently incapable of looking after yourself…”

Stiles zoned out as he started sweeping his now bare leg backwards and forwards across the cool cotton bedspread, ignoring Jackson’s inevitable snark. He opened his eyes again when it got quiet, already feeling drowsy, and he found himself smiling again when he saw Jackson stripping off his t-shirt. God he was so pretty in the moonlight from the windows. Stiles was just drunk enough to keep watching, not worried about getting caught in his inebriated state. Jackson looked up as he was pulling his jeans off of one leg and they made eye contact for a long moment that felt like it stretched and went on for much longer than it actually was. He was just wearing boxers now, checkered cotton that looked soft and comfortable and wasn’t the showy designer stuff he wore when he went out on dates. He looked so touchable and Stiles wanted to reach out, but he was so tired, he just gripped the covers instead. 

‘Go to sleep Stiles, I’ll try to make sure you don’t choke and die.”

Jackson’s tone was sarcastic and biting, like always, but he was smiling and he looked away from Stiles to finish pulling his jeans off so he did mean it. Stiles had learned to understand the in-between the lines nature of Jackson’s ways of communicating. He would look after Stiles. If only it was as more than a friend, more than a pack member watching over another. Still, Stiles was content in the moment - Jackson’s scent filling his head and the image of Jackson soft and relaxed back on his home territory, the laughter of the pack still upstairs audible from the open windows.


	3. About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Stiles and Jackson are both sober at the same time and work through their mutual misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, come and join me for more fun over at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com)!

                                                                     

 

 

So. Stiles hadn’t died in the night (thanks so much for that Jackson). But now that he was awake, he sort of wished that maybe he had. It was actually pretty rare for him to get drunk these days, when he had first turned 21 there had been a fair bit of partying and enjoying his legal ability to get smashed without worrying about his dad catching him, but he realised that he still worried anyway. With the pack’s past and his need to feel in control of himself after…everything…he avoided that feeling of being out of control as much as possible. Tipsy was as far as he liked interacting with alcohol, but last night feeling safe and secure back on home territory with the whole pack around him, and knowing that Jackson wasn’t drinking, Stile’s had felt totally relaxed about getting a bit more carried away that he usually did - knowing he’d be safe.However, the headache he woke with definitely hadn’t factored into his plans.

On waking he blinked sleep crusted eyes open and the first thing he saw was a glass of water and some pills on the bedside table. He forced himself up into a sitting position and swallowed down the pills, thanking the universe for painkillers and sweet, sweet hydration. As his brain sluggishly came back to life, he realised that he had obviously not crashed in Derek’s loft like he had done on many occasions before after pack get togethers. He slowly turned his head and was confronted the tanned planes of Jackson’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, covered to the middle with white bedding that was still crisp after a night of being slept in. Jesus. He’d slept in the same bed as Jackson. But he couldn’t remember getting there and he didn’t know when he had undressed himself to the point that there had only been boxers between the two of them. Stiles was acutely aware that his heart had started beating harder and louder, and that - actually - mental breakdowns and anxiety would have to wait until after he had used the bathroom and maybe found a spare toothbrush because his mouth tasted like something had died in it.

In the bathroom Stiles found a new toothbrush, still in it’s packaging, sitting on the countertop - at least he could brush his teeth and try to clear his head at the same time. Okay. So Jackson knew he was here. That was something, right? He had stayed over before, but he would normally sleep on the sofa, not in Jackson’s bed. One - because he would be worried about accidentally turning into the night time cuddle monster that he was fully aware he was, and two - because Jackson was particularly protective of his private spaces. Stiles personally suspected that after his time as a Kanima and his long sojourn away from the pack, Jackson still had some difficulty with his instincts about his space and his territory. The rest of the pack didn’t seem to mind, they all had their idiosyncrasies and after so long they all tolerated and embraced each other’s differences rather than poking at them like they had used to do so much during high school. And Stiles had managed to hold back from interrogating Jackson about it as well, he had even managed to respect his need for space when they moved in together for college. Even now - six months down the line - the only times Stiles had been in Jackson’s room was to help him with moving in boxes, and that night of temptation and resistance two days ago. What if in his drunken state he had crossed that line? What if he had been on the sofa but had decided the bed would be more comfortable?

“Stiles!”

Jackson’s voice broke him from his increasingly paranoid imaginings of what happened during the night (what if he had said something to Jackson in his drunken state and now he’d ruined their friendship?!) and reminded him sharply of the other night. Only he was pretty fucking positive that Jackson wasn’t calling him now to ask for help taking his underwear off. No. This was probably going to be both embarrassing and potentially friendship ending. Shit shit shit.

Stiles rinsed his mouth and straightened up before heading back towards Jackson’s bedroom space, no other options springing to mind. When he caught sight of Jackson, his heart started beating faster all over again and he was so acutely aware of the fact that Jackson could hear it that he could punch him. Why did he have to find himself growing feelings for this smug asshole, and why did he have to be able to hear and smell all of those feelings?! He watched as Jackson first ran his left hand, then his right, through his hair. Vain even on just waking up, but Stiles couldn’t complain, the movement exposing his perfectly muscled chest and tight nipples to his greedy gaze. If this was the last time Jackson was this open around him, at least he could remember this as he exiled himself somewhere with a mountain ash ward and a lifetime supply of cheetos to become the mad cat-man of nowheresville.

“Jesus Stiles, I can hear you over thinking all the way from here. Why the hell are you hovering in the doorway like that - just - come in.” His voice was rough with sleep, and he was still reclining with one leg stuck out from underneath the bedclothes. Like the rest of the werewolves in the pack, he ran hot, but still insisted on having feather duvets on his bed like an idiot.

When Stiles didn’t make any moves to come further into the room Jackson sat up further, leaning on his elbow and opening his eyes to fix Stiles with a disappointed look. His eyebrows drew together and a sight frown marred his forehead as he stared at him, neither of them speaking but both clearly listening to Stiles’ rabbiting heartbeat.

“Are you..I mean. Is this because I took off your pants?” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Because you were out of it man and I didn’t do anything else you know damn well I of all people wouldn’t encourage anything in that state - you asked to stay here and I let you in so you can’t… You can fuck off if you’re gonna be mad at me for that, ok?”

Stiles moved further into the room, closer to the bed and to Jackson and to where the flow of words seemed to be pouring out of him - all angry tones covering up an edge of hurt. He’d been wrong - it wasn’t him forcing himself into Jackson’s space, he’d been invited. Jackson had brought Stiles into his bedroom, had stripped him enough to be comfortable, and had even put painkillers and a toothbrush out for him. Jackson didn’t even use painkillers - hello, werewolf - but he had them in his loft anyway. Maybe Stiles had been wrong about more than just last night.

“Calm down Jackson, Christ - I’ve just woken up and I’ve got a headache and I thought I’d like - profaned your magical werewolf bed territory or something in my drunken night wanderings. I thought you’d be mad. But you’re not are you?” Stiles moved closer again, this time acutely aware of the fact that both of them were clad only in their boxers, and that his heart was racing fast now out of anticipation not regret. “You wanted me in your bed last night?”

Jackson’s eyes widened for a moment before he suddenly laughed, tilting his head down with his eyes shut - momentarily throwing Stiles into a mental tailspin about how goddamn cute those dimples were.

“Oh my God Stiles, you’re gonna go and be up front about it now? I thought we were on the same page since the other night - I only asked you to fucking strip me in my bedroom. You still didn’t think I wanted you in my space? For someone that Lydia told me was actually ‘not totally stupid’ you really have been oblivious.” Jackson laughed again. “Why do you think Scott didn’t take you home to your dad’s last night?! They all thought it was about time we stopped dancing around each other and I agree.”


	4. Last to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles catches up on what everyone else has known for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, you can see this little series at home on tumblr at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com) !

 

                                                                   

 

Stiles grinned, so what if everyone else knew before him - all that mattered was that Jackson invited him into his space, into his bed, and apparently now he was inviting Stiles into something-more-than-friendship. The fact that Jackson was saying all of this in the bright light of a Sunday morning, no alcohol or life-threatening experience prompting it…Stiles didn’t ever think this would happen. He daydreamed, he wished, he even fantasized with his hand wrapped round his dick and a toy in his ass - but he never actually went to far as to hope it could actually happen. Mostly because he had come to value the friendship he and Jackson had developed, that he wouldn’t risk on an admission of feelings or by pursuing Jackson himself. But he didn’t have to pursue him, Jackson was right there - in front of him on the bed with sleepy eyes and a dimpled smile and _shit_ \- Stiles actually gets this. He stepped forward again, closer to the bed, and reached out to gently touch Jacksons jaw. His heart stuttered in his chest when Jackson maintained eye contact with him while turning his head, leaning into Stiles’ hand on his face and still smiling. Stiles has officially touched Jackson’s dimples, this has got to be some kind of life achievement right here. His train of thought was interrupted by a snort from Jackson (so maybe his face gave away his thought process its not his fault ok?) as he turned his face and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ palm.

 

“Ok idiot, now that you’re caught up and apparently taking some time to process I’m gonna go freshen up and you’re gonna get back on the bed and work through whatever weird little brain fart you’re having.” The sweet smile on Jackson’s face turned into a smirk. “When I get back you better have gotten your head around this and be ready for me, ok?” 

 

 

Stiles could feel his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drop open but couldn’t do anything to stop it. Be ready? Like, for sex? With Jackson?! That’s what was being implied right there…and yeah, maybe he needed a moment to process this change of events (even though his dick was already on board apparently). Obviously Jackson had gotten to know him just as well as he had gotten to know Jackson over the last couple of years. Stiles watched him slip out of bed and walk towards the bathroom, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder at Stiles’ expression before going out of sight. The cocky little shit. Well, two could play at that game - as much as Jackson might be acting like he’s way ahead of Stiles on the change of their relationship, he’s pretty sure its at least fifty percent front. 

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see how worried you were when I came back in here - you thought I was gonna flip out on you and don’t try and fake me out man!” Stiles called out, not shouting, but confident Jackson would hear from the bathroom even with the water running. 

 

Realizing he didn’t have that much time before Jackson got back Stiles quickly arranged the pillows and flipped the duvet out flat before he crawled back into the bed. And yeah - this bedding really was worth whatever crazy money Jackson spent on it because _wow_ it felt good as he laid on his back and stretched out, with his knees bent over the side of the bed and his feet planted on the floor. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and thanking his lucky stars that he had gotten that little bit too tipsy last night because this? This was going to be awesome. He grinned to himself as he stroked his fingertips down his chest and pushed his boxers down his thighs, taking his half-hard dick in hand and giving it a casual tug, thinking about what Jackson might want to do when he rejoined him. 

 

“So, this is what you look like all spread out when I can hear you in your room at the apartment taking yourself apart?” Jackson’s voice broke Stiles’ reverie and drew his attention over to the doorway where he was standing with a towel around his waist. “I could always hear everything, but I had to imagine what you looked like…but I have to admit that seeing you in my bed is definitely better than any of those fantasies.”

 

The smirk was still on Jackson’s face, but it was a knowing smirk not a cruel one and his voice was sincere. Stiles felt the blush rising in his cheeks as Jackson looked him up and down with no hesitation, his gaze lingering on Stiles’ boxers and the way Stiles hadn’t stopped stroking himself even with Jackson standing watching him.

 

“Don’t you-” Stiles cleared his throat. “Don’t you want to come and take a closer look?”

 

As if he had been waiting to be prompted Jackson suddenly pushed off from where he had been leaning against the wall and strode into the room, dropping his towel as he reached the bed and climbing up with one knee on the mattress in the space Stiles created with his body and his outstretched arm. Jackson placed one hot, broad hand onto Stiles’ lower abdomen and the other next to his head and then he held his position, hovering over Stiles. Stiles felt his gaze like a physical thing, raking from his eyes to his lips to his neck and all the way down to his crotch and then back up again. But still Jackson hesitated. Stiles reached up with his right hand and cupped Jackson’s jaw again, hoping to break him out of whatever worry had caught his mind, and again Jackson leant into it, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

 

“Sorry, I’m just - you - I’ve been wanting to see you like this for a while now and I just don’t want to fuck it up you know?” 

 

“I know dude, but hey - I’m here, you’re here. I don’t think I’m quite ready for a big heart to heart or anything but I do -” Stiles took a deep breath of his own. “I do want to kiss you okay? So maybe we can start with that?”

 

It was obviously the right thing to say, because Jackson immediately opened his eyes and the smirk was plastered across his face again as he slid the hand on Stiles’ belly across his body and planted it into the bed on his other side in order to lean down from his position above him.

 

“Yeah Stiles, lets start with that. And lets see how long it takes for you to beg for more shall we?”

 

Stiles slid his hand from Jackson’s jaw up into his hair as he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against Stiles’, flickering his tongue out at the last second to lick across his bottom lip before drawing back and letting out a sigh against his mouth. Stiles’ eyes had slid shut at the first touch of Jackson’s mouth to his and he wordlessly tilted his head back and parted his lips, silently asking for more. Jackson groaned above him and then they were kissing again, heated and open mouthed, gentleness washed away under the sudden rush of finally getting to do this. Jackson turned his head to get the perfect angle and then his tongue was brushing against Stiles’, hot and slick and everything Stiles had ever wanted. 

 

Stiles let go of his dick and grabbed Jackson’s shoulder, wanting to draw him closer, keep him from breaking away from this fucking perfect first kiss. Jackson moaned into the kiss and climbed fully onto the bed, throwing one leg over Stiles so that he was straddling him and -  _fuck_  - grinding down onto him. With Stiles’ boxers around his knees and Jackson’s towel on the floor there was no barrier between their erections and Stiles whined into Jackson’s hungry mouth at the sensation of their dicks rubbing together, the lack of lube making the friction bright and achingly sharp. He’d probably be embarrassed about that noise later but right now he was too preoccupied with the way that Jackson reacted. He slid one hand under the small of Stiles’ back and pulled him towards himself, growling into the kiss and thrusting against him even harder as if the sound of Stiles nearly losing his mind at the feel of Jackson’s dick made him want to keep the human close and pull more of those noises out of him. The way Jackson’s shoulder muscles bunched under his hand, and the reminder of the powerful strength that filled his toned body that could so easily lift him made Stiles’ head spin and his dick throb.

 

The feel of Jackson’s body against him and the way they were both grinding against each other in earnest now made Stiles feel like there was electricity in his blood, and Jackson holding him close like he was afraid Stiles might somehow leave made his heart feel like it might beat out of his chest. Stiles broke the kiss as he threw his head back, feeling the arch in his spine as Jackson gripped him even more firmly around the waist, holding Stiles’ upper body weight with his forearm. Apparently that was the right thing to do because Jackson didn’t miss a beat, just moving his hot mouth from Stiles’ lips to his chin and then to his neck. First he brushed his cheek against the vulnerable skin right under Stiles’ chin, and then he moved his attentions to the tendon in the side of his neck with kisses and nuzzles and bites. Stiles was moaning and panting now, the combination of what felt like a veritable field of love-bites and the way their dicks now rubbed against each other slick with pre come overwhelming his senses. 

 

“Fuck - _fuck -_ Jackson you feel so good…I’m not gonna last you have to slow down-” Stiles barely got the words out around the moans he just couldn’t seem to stop spilling from his mouth. 

 

But Jackson didn’t seem to pay him any attention anyway, if anything the insistent thrusts of his hips and sucking bites he was lavishing upon Stiles’ neck only increased in their intensity. Then Stiles heard (and felt) it - Jackson was growling low in his throat, his chest vibrating with it, as he set his teeth gently to Stiles’ jugular and just held them there with his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Jackson moved the hand holding him up from where it was pressed into the duvet and gently gripped the back of Stiles’ head, essentially holding him in place. The feeling of being so completely covered with Jackson’s body, so protected and yet so restrained, of having his body being held like a play thing but having his pleasure being so prioritized hit Stiles suddenly and there he was - hitting the stratosphere with a shout as his orgasm blindsided him. Jackson didn’t stop grinding against him for one moment, drawing out Stiles’ orgasm whilst chasing his own with his head tucked down into the crook where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder. 

 

“C’mon Jackson, come on…you feel so good, you’ve made me feel so good-” Stiles was rambling now, he knew it, but even covered in his own come and almost flinching with the sensitivity of his dick he was loving every second of Jackson above him, against him. “You can just let go Jackson - _oh my god_  -you feel so gooood.” 

 

Jackson’s erection, slicked up even more with Stiles’ come now, slipped across Stiles’ balls and when he next thrust against him the pressure was solidly along his perineum and Stiles out and out gasped in shocked pleasure as it prompted another dribble of come from his still hard dick. 

 

“ _Fuck_ Stiles you don’t even know-” Jackson broke off as his whole body tensed still against him for a long moment, and then uncoiled suddenly as he moaned deep in his chest and thrust a few more times, spreading his come all over Stiles’ dick, before stilling - panting into Stiles’ neck and shivering with after shocks every couple of seconds as he slowly loosened his grip on Stiles and let them both sink back onto the bed with Jackson still draped across him. 

 

Stiles stroked his hand across Jackson’s head, feeling how soft his hair actually was when it was un-styled and wrapped his other arm firmly around his shoulders. Currently his mouth was offline, for the first time ever, but he wanted Jackson to know that though this was new it was still them, that Stiles wasn’t going to let go of him now.

 


	5. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterglow, shower time, breakfast and big conversations. Stiles and Jackson take the next step in their relationship and put all the cards on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of an ongoing series of fics and ficlets that have been inspired by pictures from tumblr where you can find me at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com)!

                                          

 

 

After luxuriating in the afterglow for a few minutes, enjoying the damp heat of Jackson’s breath in the crook of his neck and the warmth of Jackson’s body lying on his own, Stiles started to fidget. The feeling of their combined come was sexy as hell in the moment, but now it was cooling on his belly and crotch it was starting to itch and annoy him. Loath as he was to disturb the quiet warmth they had between them, they had to clean up.

“Hey, Jackson – you come back down to Earth yet?”

All he got in response to that was a snort and a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up asshole but I think you’ll find that I just blew your mind and you’re currently basking.”

At that Jackson popped his head up suddenly, a dirty smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow making him look oh-so arrogant and smug. God help Stiles, because that combination was apparently his kryptonite.

“I don’t recall any blowing happening at all Stiles – did I make you come so hard your memory is impaired?”

Stiles laughed out loud at that, and thankfully kept his eyes open while doing so because it meant he got to see Jackson’s face suddenly soften, his smirk turning into a warm smile. So it seemed that he wasn’t alone in this whole thing after all, not alone in wanting Jackson’s body against his own, and not alone in feeling happiness himself when Jackson was happy. Frankly that reality was beyond any of his fantasies or hopes for the two of them. He had been genuinely happy to be friends with Jackson, while steeling himself for the inevitability of him finding a partner and settling down and having to watch someone else fill that space in Jackson’s life. And while he had thought that maybe one day something sexual might happen between them, he thought to himself that it would be a one off thing and that he would have to be the one to keep his wits about him and not let his emotions spill all over the place. Reaching up to brush his fingertips through the hair at Jackson’s temples, Stiles felt his heart thump as he realised that he was wrong on both counts.

“I can see that brain ticking away already, clearly I didn’t actually do that good of a job,” Jackson pouted. “In which case I think it’s time to get up and clean up because I think my come has been on your skin long enough for everyone within a miles radius to know you’re taken.”

Before Stiles could sputter a response Jackson flashed a fierce grin and leapt off the bed, strutting off towards the bathroom with confidence in every line of his body. By the time Stiles’ body caught up with his brain the sound of the shower running has already started up, so Stiles scrambled off the bed to follow Jackson. It struck him as he halted at the closed to door of the bathroom that Jackson does really know him, well enough to jerk him out of his thoughts with snark and sarcasm that thinly veils a statement of intent. Jackson wants everyone to know that Stiles is taken, because Jackson doesn’t want to share, Jackson wants them to be a them.

Grinning to himself Stiles knocked his knuckles against the door that Jackson left ajar to keep the warmth inside, checking if he’s invited in before intruding. They may have just had some incredibly hot sexy times, but that doesn’t mean that Stiles has free reign to go where he wants in Jackson’s home or get to impose himself on Jackson. He never wants to put Jackson in the position that they had both found themselves in when they were younger – not being in control of their bodies and what they did. And supernatural possessions aside, Stiles remembers the discomfort he felt when he would wake in his bed to Malia being wrapped around him when she had come into the house while he was asleep without asking. They had worked it out together, but that feeling had stuck with him and he had committed himself to never making a lover feel that way.

“Come in Mr. Polite, I appreciate the privacy but I want you to make me breakfast after this – so you’d better get in here and get clean with me.”

Pushing the door open and seeing Jackson through the steamed up glass of the shower enclosure was a memory that Stiles was pretty sure would be crystallized in his memory for life. Sure, they had showered together in the locker room at high school but the unspoken rule of the locker room is that you maintain eye contact or just stare at the tiles. Now he could look his fill, and oh what a feast Jackson was. Stiles ducked into the room and closed the door fully behind him, the steam and heat of the room matching the warmth in his belly as he slipped into the shower behind Jackson and got to see the rivulets of water running down his back and ass in what feelt like high definition.

“Pass me the shower gel and tell me what you want for breakfast, asshole.”

Jackson turned to face Stiles, expensive looking bottle of body wash in hand and smirked at Stiles.

“What, I lend you my apartment and my bed and you don’t want to cook me some food as a thank you?” The smirk softened a little as he watched Stiles soap himself up. “C’mon, it’s easier to talk if there’s coffee and food on the table and I think you need to fuel up if you’re gonna keep up with me.”

Stiles deliberately leant right into Jackson’s space to put the body wash back on its shelf, feeling Jackson’s erection pressed against his hip and knowing his was pressing just as insistently into Jackson.

“I don’t think keeping up with you is going be a problem,” Stiles whispered into Jackson’s ear. “We seem to be pretty evenly matched here, don’t we?”

Jackson leant into Stiles’ body and tipped his head back to rinse his face under the spray of the shower and then turned them both around so that Stiles was under the shower. He watched with hungry blue eyes while Stiles cleaned himself up and washed his hair while he was at it. Stiles felt goose bumps break out across his skin despite the heat of the water; having Jackson’s full attention on his body was a heady thing. The tension of them both hard and wanting, but resisting touching, had him aching in the best possible way. Jackson looked like he wanted to devour him, and somehow it was different from every other partner that had looked at him with want in their eyes. Maybe it was because Jackson was a werewolf, maybe this was some predatory instinct that had Stiles feeling both like a butterfly pinned to a board and like an object of adoration. He watched Jackson watching him, waiting to see who would be the first to break. Surprisingly it was Jackson who drew his gaze up to meet Stiles’ before stepping back and out of the shower. Stiles reached up to scrub the last of the shampoo out of his hair and greedily observed Jackson grabbing a towel and drying himself off before wrapping it across his shoulders. Stiles followed him out and was handed his own towel, thick and fluffy and probably just as expensive as the bedding he had enjoyed so much the night before.

“Come on, you can borrow some clothes. I don’t think I can handle you in pants that have buttons and a zip today.”

With that announcement and an arch look on his face, Jackson left the bathroom and headed towards his closet while toweling off his hair. The closet that was an actual room of its own off of his bedroom. Stiles still thought it was hilarious that Jackson had so many clothes, and sniggered as Jackson pulled out two pairs of sweatpants and threw one towards Stiles.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure you could give Lydia a run for her money in terms of wardrobe sizes. You are aware you can pack a bag right? You don’t actually need to have a wardrobe at every place you stay.”

Jackson scowled at him and threw a henley at his face with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Put that on, you peasant. You should be grateful I’ve got enough clothes here to share.”

Stiles dutifully pulled the sweats on, and waggled his eyebrows at Jackson as he popped his head through the collar of the shirt.

“I could always go naked, you know – if I’ve really offended you.”

The only response to that was Jackson’s eyes flashing blue, and Stiles wasn’t sure whether that was from annoyance or arousal at the idea of Stiles wandering around naked all day so he made a quick exit and went to the kitchen to get started on some food. He already had bacon frying and eggs ready to hit the pan by the time Jackson came out into the main living area. Jackson got plates set out on the side and poured the coffee that Stiles had put on as soon as he reached the kitchen. When it was all cooked they piled up their plates and sat at the kitchen island. Stiles fell onto his food like a starving man, the combination of his earlier hangover and then the mornings more enjoyable activities catching up to him. Jackson ate slower, but still demolished a huge portion in reasonably short order.

“So,” Stiles took a sip of coffee and then continued. “It’s easier to talk over food huh? I’m guessing that the heart to heart was merely delayed by orgasms rather than permanently put off?”

Jackson winced, but nodded as he pushed his knife and fork closed and stacked the plates on top of each other. He took the plates over to the sink and started running the hot water, looking down into the sink rather than at Stiles. It was a familiar sight after living with Jackson for six months, he preferred doing the dishes by hand – said that the dishwasher left a residue he could taste now that he was a werewolf. But the lack of snark and conversation was less normal for them.

Stiles watched over the rim of his cup as Jackson resolutely maintained his eye contact with the plughole. As much as Jackson had learnt to read Stiles’ tells, and as much of an advantage as he had with werewolf senses, Stiles had learnt him just as well. The slightly raised shoulders, the lack of eye contact, the apparent nonchalance, they were all signs of Jackson wanting to voice something but not knowing how. Thankfully for them both, Stiles knew how to approach difficult conversations with Jackson. There had been plenty of them when he had returned from London and the pack had had to fill him in on everything that had happened while he was gone. Since the mess that was the nogitsune and its aftermath, Stiles had adopted a blanket policy of honesty with the pack and his dad, as far as he could. And now that he and Jackson had stepped over the line of friendship he knew that they needed everything out in the open. They had both been hinting at their feelings for the whole morning, but someone needed to be the first to lay their cards on the table and Stiles knew how difficult Jackson found that. Stiles could handle it better; yes he had been terrified of rejection before, but he was pretty sure that Jackson felt the same way that he did so he could be the brave one if he had to.

“Okay, so. While you do the dishes, thanks by the way I appreciate it, I’m going to say some things and you can interrupt me whenever you like ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ramble my way through this. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Stiles watched as a little bit of the tension in Jackson’s shoulders eased, and he actually picked up the sponge to begin washing the dishes rather than just staring at them.

“I think – no – I know that I would like to be more than friends with you. And, um, I have felt like this for a while. And I would like that more than friendship to be, you know, I mean I don’t just want-” Stiles could feel the tension growing in his own body. Saying this all out loud after so long keeping it inside, well, it was scary even if he thought there was a safety net. It was still scary. He looked down at his hands on the tabletop, drumming his fingers against the surface, and tried to find the best way to sum up his feelings only to come up short when Jackson sat heavily in the seat next to him. Their shoulders were brushing, and the warmth of Jackson’s body settled some of the anxiety that had been rising in him. Jackson was looking straight ahead, still avoiding eye contact, and his jaw was clenched – but there was a slight blush high on his cheeks.

“It’s not fair to let you do this all by yourself,” Jackson suddenly said into the tense quiet. “I – I know you’ve wanted to have sex with me. And. Well. I think I know that you want more than just friends-with-benefits.” Jackson swallowed hard and then turned, catching Stiles’ eyes and keeping his gaze as he continued. “I want us to be more than friends, I want us to be what we are already but more. I want everyone to know. I want to be able to say you’re mine and I’m yours. I want you in my space - I like you being in my space because then it’s our space.”

Stiles could feel his heart racing and knew that Jackson could hear it, and he just couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face even though he was sure he looked like an idiot. This was better than any of his fantasies. Jackson still had this earnest look on his face, and Stiles realised he hadn’t responded yet other than with what was probably a slightly manic expression.

“Yes! Yes. That is, yes, that is exactly what I want. From you. Us. I mean that is- fuck it.” Stiles leaned across and grabbed Jackson by the nape of his neck, dragging him in for a surprisingly gentle kiss. “Yes,” he whispered against Jackson’s lips, and felt them curve into a smile against his own.


	6. That Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big confessions of feelings aren't going to stop these two bickering, but at least now they have an outlet for all of those on-their-way-to-resolved-sexual-tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of an ongoing series of fics and ficlets that have been inspired by pictures from tumblr where you can find me at [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> This is the last in this little series, I feel quite content leaving our boys here. Look out for more stackson fics though, I'm definitely not done with them altogether!

                                                  

 

Before he knew it Stiles found himself pulled out of his chair and pressed up against the kitchen island, Jackson maneuvering him around easily while continuing to kiss him senseless. The new position had a complaint about the hard countertop digging into his back on the tip of Stiles’ tongue. But before he could even start to drag himself away from sucking on Jackson’s bottom lip he was lifted up and onto the counter, the new position changing the angle of their kiss. He pulled away finally and ran his fingers through Jackson’s short hair, cupping the back of his head gently as he enjoyed the height he was now at. It allowed him to look down into Jackson’s open, relaxed face and just smile right back at him.

 

“So, now that you have admitted you want me in your space you’re finally gonna let me sit on the countertops? I thought that was against the house rules?”

 

Jackson leant forward and buried his face in Stiles’ neck, groaning at the return of a familiar argument.

 

“Seriously Stiles?” His voice came out muffled and warm against Stiles’ throat. “We do the big confession thing and _that_ is what you choose to focus on? You’re such a goddamn _brat_!” He followed up his admonishment with a quick nip to Stiles’ neck, eliciting a yelp and a startled laugh.

 

“Oh, _I’m_ the brat now? I’ll remember that comment the next time you demand I pick out all of the raisins from the _rum and raisin_ ice cream you insist on getting you absolute- _ass!”_

 

The end of his sentence came out on a gust of air as Jackson suddenly gripped him by the waist and threw him over his shoulder, carrying him fireman style in the direction of the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom now if Jackson’s declaration was anything to go by. Stiles’ heart fluttered at the thought, and Jackson must have heard it because the hand holding on to Stiles’ leg gentled and rubbed up and down to soothe him. To distract himself from the onslaught of sudden feelings Stiles focused on the _actual_ ass that was working just in front of his face. He reached down and cupped a cheek in each hand, delighting in the feel of the muscles working as Jackson strode through the apartment.

 

“Dude, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on your ass.” Jackson chuckled and then Stiles felt the world invert as he was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. He wriggled around and then settled for folding his arms beneath his head and putting on his most obnoxiously smug face. “I mean, your face isn’t too bad, but _that ass_!”

 

Jackson smirked, and with his knees between Stiles’ spread legs he leant forward until his face was hovering just a breath away. Stiles tilted his face up, already yearning for another of the kisses he was starting to think he was addicted to. But Jackson just smirked; nudged Stiles’ nose with his own and then abruptly stood up and turned his back on Stiles.

 

“If you prefer my ass so much better than my face maybe there’ll be no more kisses, I wouldn’t want you suffering that hardship.”

 

Jackson probably meant it to just prolong their argument; it was how they spent most of their time – locked in a protracted state of snark and mock aggression. But Stiles was interested in more important things than verbally besting Jackson today, and considering he had been thinking about getting acquainted with Jackson’s ass for what felt like the last million years he wasted no time in sitting up and grabbing it. Jackson turned his head sharply, as if he hadn’t expected it; so Stiles just grinned up at him before squeezing firmly and relishing the quiet sigh Jackson let out in response. He released the firm flesh underneath his palms and ran his hands up until they rucked Jackson’s t-shirt up and exposed the small of his back. Golden skin and the heat underneath his fingertips drew Stiles in and he leaned close to drop an open mouthed kiss just above the dangerously low hanging waistband of Jackson’s sweats, then another, and another. He pushed the shirt further up to get more access for kisses and wrapped his hands around Jackson’s sides, feeling his breathing speed up with the rapid expansion and contraction beneath his palms.

 

“Take the shirt off, take it off – I wanna get my hands on you.” Stiles murmured into the warm skin against his mouth.

 

And Jackson complied, tugging the shirt off over his head and throwing it towards the washing basket in the corner. Stiles took the opportunity to run his hands further up and around Jacksons chest, thumbing his nipples and making him gasp before dragging his fingertips back down towards the waistband of his pants. He dragged himself away from dotting yet more kisses between the dimples on Jacksons lower back to hook his fingers into the waistband and tug it down, revealing the plump roundness of his exceptionally well-toned ass. No skipping squats at the gym for Jackson, obviously. Stiles gripped that ass again, loving the way his big hands managed to cover almost all of it, and then he slowly pulled Jackson’s cheeks apart to finally catch sight of his tight pink pucker. He was sort of glad Jackson had his back to him right now because he was sure his mouth was just hanging open, slack jawed and loose because _fuck,_ even Jackson’s asshole was pretty. He leaned forward and just breathed hotly against his hole and Jackson outright gasped, loud in the silence of the apartment, and his whole body went tense. Stiles drew back and moved his hands to the safety of Jackson’s hips, rubbing his thumbs gently to try and relax him.

 

“Jackson,” Stiles kept his voice low, “hey, is this okay?”

 

Jackson looked over his shoulder again, this time with a flush high on his perfect cheekbones, and he nodded before clearing his throat.

 

“I think – it’d be better if I was lying down for…for this.”

 

Stiles just smiled and nodded up at him, and scooted out of the way so that Jackson could get onto the bed too. But Jackson being Jackson had to rile Stiles up after having his moment of vulnerability. Still looking over his shoulder he slowly bent over right in front of Stiles’ face to fully remove his pants, leaving Stiles to helplessly watch as Jackson’s perfect, _perfect_ ass swayed in front of him. Smirk firmly back in place, Jackson crawled onto the bed and then lowered his shoulders until he was neatly arranged on his knees with his chest pressed to the covers. Which really didn’t help so much with Stiles’ composure. He pressed his palm briefly to the hard on tenting out the front of his sweatpants, but only enough to get some focus, not enough to get off. That could wait. Right now he had more important things to do, and that was to wreck Jackson until he wiped that smirk right off of his ridiculous face.

 

The way Jackson was laid out on the bed presented his ass so prettily, so Stiles situated himself between his legs and once again took a moment to appreciate the span of his own fingertips across his cheeks. Then he dipped his thumbs into Jackson’s crack and parted it, eliciting a soft moan from him as his hole was exposed to Stiles’ gaze once again. The moment for teasing could wait till another time though, Stiles could barely hold himself back from finally getting to taste Jackson in this most intimate place, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to his hole before delicately drawing his tongue all the way from Jackson’s balls to his tailbone. Jackson outright groaned at that, and spurred on, Stiles set to work messily eating him out with broad strokes of his tongue across his hole, delicate, teasing jabs with the tip of his tongue and dirty open-mouthed kisses. The noises he was pulling from Jackson were becoming ever more needy, and he was moaning in response, so turned on by giving him pleasure that his own cock throbbed every time Jackson’s hips gave an involuntary thrust to ride back against his face.

 

“Fucking- _fuck_ Stiles!” Jackson’s voice was muffled as his face half pressed into the mattress. One hand was gripping tightly to the bedspread, and the other went back to clutch at Stiles’ head, holding him against his ass while he rolled his hips seeking more. “Pl-please I need more, I need more, c’mooon – I-I…”

 

Stiles delivered one more sucking kiss to the clenching furl of Jackson’s hole before drawing back. He ignored Jackson’s protestations at his stopping, and took the hand that had been clutching at his head and placed it on Jackson’s ass.

 

“Hold yourself open for me, come on, and the other hand.” He smiled to himself as Jackson complied, desperate enough for more that he was doing what he was told for once. “Good, now you hold yourself all open and ready for me and tell me where the lube and condoms are. I want to open you up all ready for me, how about that?”

 

Jackson nodded mindlessly against the bedspread, letting go of his death grip on it to move both of his hands to hold his cheeks apart.

 

“The lube’s in my bedside drawer, the side I slept on. I don’t want a condom. I don’t – I just need to feel you. Just – fucking hurry up okay?” Neediness was slipping into Jackson’s voice and Stiles couldn’t have that, couldn’t have him needing and not getting, so he hurriedly stripped out of his clothes, retrieved the bottle of lube and resumed his position between Jackson’s legs.

 

“You look so good like this Jackson, so fucking good I cant keep my hands off you.”

 

Stiles leant back in and tongued at Jackson’s hole again, loving the way it made him moan and tighten his grip on his own cheeks till the skin went white around his fingertips. As he made sure Jackson was thoroughly wet, Stiles poured lube into one of his palms to warm it and then slicked up two of his fingers. He moved his mouth to kiss and nip at the soft skin at the junction of Jackson’s thigh and ass as he gently circled his hole with the tip of one of his fingers before slowly sinking his finger in. Immediately Jackson clenched down around him and pushed backwards, eager for more. Stiles had to grab at his erection to stave off any unfortunate early reactions to the sight of his finger pumping in and out of Jackson’s ass. Quickly enough Jackson was clearly no longer content with just one finger so Stiles slid a second in alongside the first, gently stretching his hole. Jackson’s hands were reflexively clenching where he was still dutifully holding himself open, and Stiles could tell he was starting to become desperate. Jackson’s dick was full and heavy, and the damp spot on the covers from his leaking precome was almost enough to distract Stiles from the fact that Jackson was now taking three fingers and pushing back for more.

 

“I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready…” Jackson was muttering over and over into the covers while he rocked his hips back on Stiles’ hand.

 

Stiles slowly pulled his fingers from Jackson’s ass and trailed them down to trace across his balls, making them shiny with lube and making Jackson jump with the sudden change in stimulation. He used the leftover lube in the palm of his other hand to slick up his erection and moved closer to Jackson, letting his cock rub up against his hole without penetrating him. Making sure he still wanted it. When the only response he got was the most perfectly arched back, and to see Jackson’s fingers grip his ass cheeks even more firmly, Stiles nodded to himself and pressed forward. At first there was resistance and Jackson tried to push backward too fast, but Stiles gentled him with his hands on his hips keeping him still and slowly but surely pressed forward until the head of his cock was inside. A high whine came from Jackson, and for a moment Stiles thought he had hurt him, but then Jackson’s whole body undulated beneath him and he slipped in another inch or two. The whine turned into a throaty moan and Stiles felt more confident slowly thrusting in and out until he was fully seated in Jackson’s body. The tight, wet, _heat_ of his body was almost overwhelming. Of course Stiles knew werewolves ran hot but this took him by surprise somehow, and he threw his head back with his eyes closed as he took deep calming breaths to try and bring himself back from the brink of coming far, far too early.

 

He took the moment to trace Jacksons fingers with his own and then to take Jackson’s hands away from holding himself open, instead placing them on the bed where he immediately regained his white knuckled grip on the bedspread.

 

“Jackson, are you ready?” Stiles’ own voice had dropped into the husky tones it always did when he was so turned on he could barely think.

 

Jackson responded with a tight clench around Stiles’ dick that made him gasp, and then a low growl.

 

“I’ve _been_ ready Stiles, please just- I want to feel you, I wanna come on your dick – just fucking fuck me.”

 

Just hearing that made Stiles involuntarily thrust forward. Jackson coming with his dick inside him? _Fuck_. Stiles used his knees to spread Jackson’s legs wider, and planted his own knees firmly before again taking a grip of Jackson’s slim waist and angling his hips. And oh, the shoulder to waist ratio when seen from this particular position was enough to make him want to pay for Jackson’s gym membership himself. His first solid thrust made Jackson gasp, the new angle must be hitting his prostate, and the way that Jackson felt around him and the way his ass fucking _bounced_ just about took Stiles’ breath away. And then Jackson started pushing back against him and Stiles was fucking into him with a steady measured rhythm, hard and deep and hitting that spot as often as he could, until he saw Jackson slipping his hand down to his own neglected cock.

 

Stiles leant forward and wrapped his arms around Jackson’s chest, and then leant back again, dragging Jackson into an upright kneeling position. Stiles adjusted his grip so one arm wrapped tightly around Jackson’s waist, and the other was across his chest firmly gripping one muscled shoulder. The position gave him perfect access to Jackson’s neck and he trailed kisses up the tendon as he started thrusting hard up into his perfectly pliant body.

 

 

“Come on Jackson, touch yourself for me.” Stiles panted into Jackson’s ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin with each word. “You’ve been so perfect, you feel so good, I want to see you come on my dick like you promised. I wanna see you feel so good…”

 

One of Jackson’s hands immediately flew to his cock, achingly hard and red at the head, and he started jacking himself off ruthlessly. The other hand went to grip the back of Stiles’ head again, setting off the sense memory of being held to Jackson’s ass just before. But this time Jackson held Stiles to his neck and leant his head to the side, fully exposing his vulnerable throat to him. Stiles gripped him even tighter, and ground deep into him, the thrill of Jackson trusting him so totally in this moment made him feel like he was on the crest of something even more meaningful than what was probably going the be the best orgasm of his life.

 

Acting on instinct he set his teeth to Jackson’s neck, feeling the pounding pulse of his heartbeat against his tongue, and tilted his hips slightly so that on the next thrust Jackson cried out and Stiles knew he’d found his prostate again. It took barely three more thrusts, combined with Jackson fucking into his own hand, and Stiles increasing the pressure of his teeth against his throat, for Jackson to come noisily and spectacularly all over his belly, and Stiles’ arms, and the bed too. The feeling of Jackson clenching and spasming around his dick set Stiles off into selfish rutting as he chased his own orgasm. Jackson’s hand tightened its grip in his hair and Stiles moaned helplessly against his neck, as his orgasm washed over him, startling in its intensity. He was shaking and moaning, and still twitching his hips in minute little thrusts when he finally relaxed his arms from where they had been crushing Jackson’s body to his own. He kissed at Jackson’s neck and when he turned his face to search blindly for a kiss he cupped Jackson’s cheek and kissed him deeply despite the awkward angle.

 

Eventually they have to pull apart and when Stiles managed to open his eyes it was to Jackson’s flushed face, his shiny kiss-bruised lips, and his eyes glowing beta blue. Jackson quickly closed his eyes and pulled away, separating their bodies with the obscene sound of lube and come, and he flopped down onto the bed heavily. He immediately pulled a face because it’s his own wet spot he’s just landed in, and Stiles laughed quietly.

 

“I’m just gonna go grab a cloth okay?” Stiles pressed a kiss to Jacksons shoulder and went quickly to the bathroom.

 

When he returned, washcloth in hand, Jackson had pulled back the bedspread and was lying on his side on the fresh unspoiled sheet. And his eyes were still closed. Stiles smiled to himself, trailed his fingers from Jackson’s ankle up his body until he reached his hip. He gently cleaned Jackson of all the come and lube and tossed the cloth into the wash basket before climbing into the bed and tangling their legs together. Jackson had his arms loosely wrapped around himself, and Stiles’ heart ached.

 

“Jackson, come here.” Stiles murmured low, as he took Jackson’s arms and pulled him bodily towards his own chest. “Open your eyes Jackson, I want to see you.”

 

He watched as Jackson’s impressive jaw clenched tight before he opened his eyes a little, the blue of his beta shift eyes glowing beneath his eyelashes. Stiles put his fingers underneath Jackson’s chin and tilted his head up from where it’d been tucked down into his chest, a rare and uncharacteristic display of insecurity. Before he said anything he leaned closer to drop a soft but full kiss against Jackson’s plush mouth.

 

“You know I know everything about you, so why are you being weird about showing me your eyes?”

 

Jackson huffed against his lips and rolled his eyes dramatically. Stiles grinned to himself, and hugs him tighter.

 

“Honestly? I don’t know, I guess its just habit at this stage? I don’t, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I’m still…” Jackson trailed off, turning his head to brush his jaw against Stiles’ cheek, scenting him.

 

“Let me reassure you. You know full well by this stage that you’re not _actually_ everybody’s type. But you are mine. And I say that knowing your past, knowing your mistakes, even knowing the stuff you did absolutely on purpose. But I’m here because I accept all of that; I welcome all of that, all of _you._ And that includes your beautiful blue eyes, whether they are your ‘standard’ or ‘special edition’ blues.” Stiles rubbed his hand up and down on Jackson’s hip, reassuring him quietly as best he could without intruding

 

“Stiles,” Jackson was smirking again as he pulled back to make eye contact again, his eyes still glowing, “I don’t have a ‘standard’ _anything_.”

 

Stiles snorted before leaning in to press short, sweet kisses against Jackson’s mouth and chin and cheeks, prompting a started laugh out of him.

 

“No, you really don’t. But for the record - you losing control of your beta shift during sex? That is super hot; we should be exploring that is all I’m saying. Okay?!”

 

Jackson slid his arm under Stiles’ head, cushioning him on his bicep, and cupped his cheek with the other hand. He leaned in and kissed Stiles, more sweetly than any of the kisses they had so far shared.

 

“We can do that,” he murmured, “we can do all of that. We explore it all together.”

 

 

 


End file.
